by Terry Lee
Quinlan nodded, straightened her back and breathed deeply.
“George, are we finished here?” Mary asked.
The Mr. Potato Head look-alike turned to Quinlan. “Unless you have questions for us?”
“Actually I do.” Quinlan stuffed the Kleenex back in her pocket. “What about those….” she paused and cleared her throat, “who don’t seem like…they belong here?” She glanced around the table, wondering if she was totally out of line.
“You’re referring to your mother.” The words marched out of George’s mouth without a hint of the reference being a question.
Quinlan nodded.
“Maggie?” George tipped his oversized head to Maggie.
“Well, luv,” Maggie began, “remember the Veils of Self-Deception procedure?”
Quinlan repeated the nod.
“As I told you then, once the veils are lifted one gets to see the areas that…how should I say this?” Maggie searched the ceiling. “Sucked.” She smiled. “Some need more work in…certain areas. Assessments are completed and reviewed. There are always choices to be made and plenty of fortuitous growth opportunities. Some are quicker learners than others.”
Quinlan immediately wondered if she possibly fit into that category. She’d have to mentally file Maggie’s infomercial away for further study.
“Anything else?” The half-moon squiggly smile on George’s face looked like it had been drawn on by a kindergartener with a fat crayon.
“Just one last thing,” Quinlan said. “Everything I was given for the trip was blue. What was that about?”
George looked to Mary. “Want to take this one?”
“Ah yes, that’s right. We have yet to explain the reasoning behind the cobalt blue.” Mary put her arm around Quinlan’s shoulder. “Because you were still—” Mary paused, “vulnerable, shall we say—you needed special protection. All the items you were given were cobalt because they emitted an ultraviolet sensor light.”
“I don’t understand,” Quinlan said.
“You were a bloody mess, luv,” Maggie chimed in. She had such a way with words. “It kept any more negativity from globbing onto what you were already lugging around.” Maggie’s English accent smoothed out the interjection a bit. “Just till you worked through…well, you know. Everything you were given protected you like a fluffy blue cloud.”
“And the glasses?” Quinlan looked at Mary.
Mary raised her eyebrows and motioned to Maggie.
“Uh, the glasses, yes. Protection for the eyes was very important,” Maggie said. “They’re the windows to the soul, you know.”
“But I felt like a glittery Catwoman.” Quinlan’s face portrayed her distaste.
Maggie rubbed her chin. “I was going for Endora, but now that you mention it, I can see Catwoman.”
“And the glitter?” Quinlan asked.
“Bling, luvvy. Bling.” Maggie’s eyes lit with an inner twinkle. “Thought I’d brighten things up a bit.”
“So, I’m okay now? I don’t need any of the blue things anymore?” Quinlan asked.
“Everything has been de-activated, my dear,” Mary said.
“Even your eyeglasses,” Maggie added. “Won’t be able to see a bloody thing with them.”
“Your frequency level is up to where it should be,” Mary said, “and all is, shall we say…in divine order.”
Maggie took hold of Quinlan’s elbow. “I’ll escort you out.” They left the Green Room and headed toward the outside seating area where Meghan sipped a cup of tea.
“Good work, luv.” Maggie gave Quinlan a hug. “Now, go enjoy yourself.”
~~~
Mary gathered the papers from the table and slipped them into the green folder. She kept her eyes on George. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”
George raised his puppy dog eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He proceeded to shut down the laptop.
Mary sat next to him. “Come on,” she urged. “You can tell me.”
George took his time sliding the laptop into its leather carrying case. “Some need a little help finding themselves, that’s all.” He pulled the zipper around the edges of the satchel. “Doesn’t matter how, just so they do.”
Mary regarded George. “You’re holding something back. I can tell by that silly look on your face.”
George paused a brief second. “Grace’s husband returned from Beijing this morning.” He sat back in his chair and ran a hand over the top of the cane by his side. “Things happened to fall in place for him quicker than expected.”
“Really.” Mary’s surprise was obvious. “And how did you happen to manage that?” She rose and headed to the door.
“I have my ways,” he said.
“You didn’t say anything to Quinlan.”
“She’ll find out soon enough.”
Her hand on the door handle, Mary stopped and turned. “Now, wa-it a minute.” Her eyes narrowed. “You didn’t have anything to do with him going to Beijing in the first place, did you?”
George stood and reached for his cane and baseball cap. He smushed the hat on his head, forcing his ears outward. He looked like Yoda playing short-stop.
Mary pointed a knowing finger at him. “Or what about Quinlan’s notebook mysteriously showing up after she’d destroyed it?”
The mischievous crooked smile outlined his worn face. “Madam, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
CHAPTER 46
QUINLAN
Before Quinlan could order herself a cup of tea, Meghan raised her hand. “I’ve taken care of this.” She motioned to the waiter, who brought a bottle of champagne and two stemmed glasses to their table. He poured the liquid-gold bubbly then took a step back.
Meghan raised her glass. “Time for that clinking thing, as Gracie would say.”
Quinlan smiled. “I think it’s time to call her Grace.”
Meghan nodded approval. “To Grace and peaceful days.” They raised their glasses.
The waiter stepped forward. “Excuse me. There’s more.”
Quinlan turned to Meghan. “What else have you done?”
Meghan shrugged.
The waiter motioned over his shoulder and two additional wait staff members appeared, each carrying large oval trays laden with every pastry on the menu. They placed the delectables around the table.
“What? We didn’t order this,” Quinlan said.
Meghan’s eyes lit like Fourth of July sparklers.
“We couldn’t possibly….”
“If I may?” The waiter handed Quinlan a small white envelope from his coat pocket.
She read the short message, a smile crossing her face. “The woman’s crazy.” She handed the note to Meghan.
To one who almost drove me crazy…
But who most always made me laugh.
My compliments to you—
Angela
Meghan tossed the note aside and grabbed her fork. “Gotta say, it helps to know people in high places.”
“We’ll have to diet next week, you know.” Quinlan sipped her champagne.
Meghan shrugged and started with the rum raisin bread pudding. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”
“About what?” Quinlan reached her fork over and swiped a bite of bread pudding off Meghan’s plate.
“Remember when Ghost played on your television and you kept trying to hit mute?”
Quinlan stopped, fork in mid-air.
“He's stuck, that's what it is. He's in between worlds,” Meghan said.
“You don’t have to go back to find out how to use mediums. I told you before you left there’s a lot to learn here.” Meghan pulled another pastry selection in front of her. “Guess you had to go through it your own way.”
“Okay, here’s the deal.”
Recognizing Ruby’s gruff voice, Quinlan turned.
“You got questions, you call me. Got it?” The plus-size woman instructed through Juicy Fruit chomps.
Quinlan watched Ruby walk along the sidewalk in front of the café with a young man who looked like he’d exited the womb pumping iron.
Spotting the women, Ruby lifted her arm in a salute. “Keep walking, I’ll catch up in a minute.” She backtracked a few steps and used her hand to cover her words. “Bowling champ,” she beamed, “and a lefty.” She gave the women a thumbs-up, pushed signature blue-tinted glasses up on her nose, and scrambled to catch up with her new assignment.
If you enjoyed reading Saving Gracie I would greatly appreciate you taking a minute or so to leave a quick review on Amazon.com. Reviews are such a great help to indie authors such as myself. Thanking you in advance…
About the Author
As a native Houstonian, a rarity these days, I hold two licenses in the state of Texas: one in chemical dependency counseling, the other in massage therapy. In 2004, I trained to be a volunteer for Houston Hospice, a life-changing training session I believe would benefit all. Hospice, contrary to popular belief, is not about dying. Hospice is about helping people live until they die.
Although writing has been a part of my genetic lineage, the bug did not officially bite until 2006. From then on, my true life passion sprouted and came into full bloom. I’ve always been an observer by nature…ask any close friend or family member. I’ve studied lines and movie dialogues for years, which can often become annoying to said above friends and family (I can see the bobble-head nods of agreement).
When I write, I pull from what I know—real people, real life, and all the obstacles in between. My intent is to deliver stories with wisdom, warmth, a medley of emotions and always a touch of humor, which I often find to be the elixir of life.
I’m married to a wonderful man and an armload of grandchildren I adore. As a hobby, I crochet baby/security blankets (quite obsessively) for the Linus Project. Crocheting keeps my hands busy at night while I study movies and sit-coms for story ideas. I have always said I will learn to knit when I grow up. So far, that hasn’t happened.
You can connect with me on my blog, www.terryleeauthor.blogspot.com, on Facebook, www.facebook.com/TerryLee.Author, or on my website, www.terry-lee.net.
